bird in a box store

like a bird in a box store
flying above the steel trees
plastic plants in the far back
protected by strange stiff men in long pointed hats
and sickening grins
if you alighted on a nearby polished snowblower
you’d see the gnomes twinkling eyes
maybe a little happiness there
painted in by foreign hands
confused as you are now
there is expanse to fly
bountiful food on the floor
pools of little ponds
temperate climate
infinite grey to ease those once vigilant eyes
but no elegant altitude
no cryptic nimbus
no aqua-blue current 
must the grey below become black
to inspire you beyond
the sliding sheets of smudged glass

born you were to fly
but not in a box store
warblerwas in Lowe’s today and heard the little sparrows on the light fixtures


15 thoughts on “bird in a box store

  1. Why do those little birds like to fly into enclosures, I often ask myself. Your post wonderfully captures that dilemma (detail, detail, detail, color, color, color – perfect) and the only answer I can come up with is that maybe they’re a lot like people who, once enticed by curiosity and the new, can’t find their way back out. I love the bird, btw.


      • I love Lowes, even thought about getting a job there. “Brackets? Aisle 9” — I can say that. I can imagine you’ve been a regular. There was a time in Michigan when I actually did think I worked there. 😉


      • Best wishes Thursday/Friday on your folks’ big move. I’ll be thinking of you all, hoping for a smooth transference from place to place. It’s very cold and snowy here — hope you don’t have the same weather in your neck of the woods. Glad to hear Karole’s suite is almost finished, too; that should make her (and you) feel so much better. Pier One — spent a lot of time/$$$ there, too. 🙂


  2. Love the drawing! This reminds me of the birds that are always flying about in North Station….having slipped in when the sliding doors to the outdoor train bays opens to let folks out to board the planes. They also hop about the floor, hoping for a crumb from someone’s Dunkin doughnut or a morsel of popcorn. Secretly, I want to jump up and somehow marshal them back through the quickly opening and closing doors — perhaps with a whistle to say “when!” Frustration is when an unwatched kid takes it upon him or herself to give chase. Then the poor things really are all atwitter.


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